


Keep It in Mind

by JulyStorms



Series: Though the Stars Walk Backward [1]
Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 16:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulyStorms/pseuds/JulyStorms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akane comes to a realization.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep It in Mind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cellorocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cellorocket/gifts).



> "Ginaka + whisper," requested on Tumblr.

The realization that she wants to kiss him comes slowly, and in pieces. It’s not such a surprise, really, when she thinks about it, but it isn’t until the final bits of information are procured that everything makes perfect sense: this is the manner in which mysteries are often solved, after all.

It started years ago, with shared trauma and quiet understanding, with steadiness of character and unfailing loyalty, with a hundred little gestures and smiles and lingering looks and a great capacity for caring.

But today it continues in the nearly-empty office of Division One at the PSB. There are only three of them there: Akane, Ginoza-san, and finally Hinakawa-san, who is bent over his keyboard, eyes focused on the display screens in front of him. The room is quiet but for the keyboards, speedy _click-clack_ ing interspersed with the unmistakable bouncing sound of the spacebar key or the hard input of someone pressing Enter. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, quite different than the usual chaos of the early morning.

Their shift is only half over when Akane, skimming an article, notices something odd in the phrasing—something that seems condemning, and more so the longer she thinks about it. A slight frown crosses her face, causing the space between her eyebrows to wrinkle.

It’s habit, now, to look up at the room, and always in the same direction first—at the same person. Ginoza-san is already watching her: still typing, but slowly, now, as if he knew to look up in time to catch her gaze.

An embarrassed little smile is all she can offer him, but she hopes it eases the concerned look on his face. She’s fine—she’s _always_ fine. Somehow. Yet he worries anyway. He can’t help it, he said to her, once, so please forgive him for the moments where his concern may grow tiresome.

It hasn’t, yet. Not really. She’s glad he cares.

But there really is nothing to worry about, not today. She inclines her head: an invitation of sorts.

After typing another sentence or two—no doubt trying to finish his thought—he gets to his feet and makes his way over to her.

Hinakawa-san is the only one typing, now, but his eyes remain on his computer as Ginoza-san passes him, either not noticing or not caring. Considering Hinakawa-san’s keen observation skills, Akane assumes it’s the latter of the two which is true.

Perhaps this is why Ginoza-san comes around behind her desk instead of standing in front of it the way he might have done had Inspector Shimotsuki been there, ready, no doubt, to offer her opinion on office etiquette for enforcers.

But deep down Akane knows there’s more to it than that.

It’s a smooth motion; his stride doesn’t break as he steps around the corner of her desk and comes to stand behind her chair. That there is no hesitation on his part is important to her: it means he’s comfortable.

She turns back to her computer and points to the large central display. “What do you think about this?” she asks, her voice soft so as to avoid disturbing Hinakawa-san’s work.

He leans down and forward to see things from her angle, torso pressing against the back left side of her chair. He reads the text that she points out to him, and lifts his hand briefly to brush hers aside—to see the next few lines, no doubt. His touch is light.

And his voice is soft when it comes, close to her ear as if he, too, is unwilling to speak at normal conversational volume.

“It’s a good catch,” he says, “but…” And then he leans forward, right arm sliding along her left as he reaches for her keyboard and types in a command. It only takes him a moment to pull up what it is he’s looking for, and then he pulls back, but not completely. “Having read this article earlier today by the same person, it appears to lend the angle you’re going for less credence.”

Akane bites her lip and feels her nose scrunching up as she thinks. She grabs the mouse and scrolls down slightly to check the date of the article. It was written later than the previous. “This could have been written to cover their tracks.”

She can see his slight smile out of the corner of her eye. His hand lands on hers, still settled on the mouse, and finds the scroll wheel. “What do you think about this?” he asks after a moment of skimming the article, pointing again to the display, at a particular sentence.

Her fingers catch his, pulling them down just far enough that she can read further; it’s not that she doesn’t trust him to point out the most relevant lines: she believes in being thorough. It’s probably something she learned from him.

She shifts slightly in her chair, letting go of his hand. “I think,” she tells him, “that it sounds too pointed in light of the article I just showed you.”

The soft puff of air that brushes against her ear and the back of her neck is not quite a laugh from him. “Exactly,” he says, and his words follow the same path, forcing a shiver down her spine.

“So it’s worth looking into,” she prompts, turning her head toward him slightly.

“Undoubtedly,” is his reply, eyes focused on the screen, lips pulled back in a smile.

She can’t help but stare—at his eyes and the faint lines beginning to form at the corners, at his hair falling against his cheek, at the angle of his jaw and the slant of his neck, and the smooth, straight line of his nose. And then his lips, of course.

That’s when it hits her, when the final piece seems to click into place: she wants to kiss him.

She doesn’t discard the thought right away though she should—maybe because it’s a nice one. It’s also easy to imagine: his breath against her lips instead of her ear, the texture of his hair sliding through her fingers. With someone like Ginoza-san, it would be gentle and soft. He’d worry, otherwise. A few years ago, the idea might have amused her, but that is no longer the case.

She is not fragile, and so has never thought much about being treated with tenderness, but now— _now_ the idea of it squeezes at her chest and drops low in her stomach, like an anchor in the water.

It might be nice to be loved like that.

“…Tsunemori?”

She jerks as if she’s been shot. It doesn’t help the situation at all. Ginoza-san’s forehead is creased with his concern, and she can feel Enforcer Hinakawa staring.

“Sorry,” she manages to say, and fumbles for an excuse. “It’s just—I’m tired, I guess.” It isn’t a lie; she is always feeling a little tired these days.

But her words have the desired effect: Ginoza-san’s shoulders relax. “You’re working too hard, then. You need to concern yourself with your own health more often than you do, Tsunemori.”

“It’s not really so bad.”

“You didn’t respond at all the first two times I tried to get your attention.”

She can feel her face slowly growing warm. “Ah—well…” She doesn’t have an excuse. It’s not as if she can tell him the truth. Perhaps admitting defeat this one time is not such a bad idea. “All right. After shift I’ll go straight home and to bed.”

“I don’t see why you can’t go right now.” His hand settles momentarily on her shoulder, and he glances to the side, toward Hinakawa-san’s work station. Akane follows his gaze just in time to see the young enforcer nod in affirmation. “Hinakawa and I can finish up.”

The temptation to flee the situation entirely is high, but the last thing she wants is for Ginoza-san to feel grounded in his belief that something is actually wrong with her. He doesn’t need anything more to worry about in his life. None of them do.

“Ginoza-san, Hinakawa-san: I appreciate your concern, but I’m fine. Really. I can finish my shift.”

Hinakawa-san ducks his head in acceptance, but when Akane glances up at Ginoza-san, who has straightened his back and appears, suddenly, to be exceptionally tall, she finds him frowning.

Just slightly.

As if he knows something isn’t quite right.

She crooks her finger at him, draws him nearer without touching him at all. She speaks, but only when he’s close enough, when he’s at her level with his back stooped again, when she knows he’s close enough to hear her voice at a whisper.

She considers, for only a moment, telling him the truth—or promising to, later.

But she doesn’t.

“Ginoza-san” she insists, too close to his ear; she can feel her upper lip brush just slightly against the outside edge of it. It’s an accident, but it gives her the idea to press a kiss there. It’s not something that she would dare to do, not here and certainly not now, but she wonders how he would react to something like that, to a gesture that would be so clearly intimate and meaningful.

She also doesn’t pull back to finish her sentence, instead speaking it against his ear just as she’d said his name: “Stop. Worrying.” There is a teasing lilt to her words that she hopes he is able to see and understand.

She pulls back to smile at him, one eyebrow raised as if she expects an answer from him in the affirmative, though of course she doesn’t. Ginoza-san’s nature is to worry, after all, especially about her. But she’s surprised to find him blushing; even the tips of his ears are red.

It could mean any number of things, but Akane thinks she knows what’s going through his head. Her smile widens, and he straightens his back again, breaking eye contact, fingers fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves.

She probably ought to be just as embarrassed as he is, but she’s not. She’s pleased. Good. Now he has to think about it, too.

But then she looks up to see Hinakawa-san staring at them. He opens his mouth as if to apologize for seeing something he was not meant to see, but closes it again without saying a word and turns back to his computer, letting his red hair cover his matching face. He could be thinking anything at all, after that.

The heat comes suddenly into her own face, and she slumps back in her chair, hands pressing to her flaming cheeks as Ginoza-san makes his way back around her desk toward his own. This is ridiculous: all three of them blushing like children, though none of them are.

Akane closes her eyes, cheeks puffing out slightly with an embarrassed sigh, and turns back to her computer. It’s a good thing she has a lot of work to do, she tries to tell herself. In an hour or two, they will have all forgotten it. Maybe.

She sneaks a glance at Ginoza-san a few moments later to find him distractedly fixing his tie, which has been perfectly centered all day. The color in his face has faded, slightly, but when he glances up at her and catches her watching him, it returns, stronger than before. He won’t be forgetting anything anytime soon.

Though the urge strikes her to look away, to fumble for the home row and pick up writing her report from where she left off, Akane chooses, instead, to offer him a smile. He returns it after a moment, forehead smoothing as the skin at the corners of his eyes creases instead; he looks rather handsome like this, she thinks. Maybe his remembering all of this isn’t at all a bad thing. She certainly won’t be able to forget it.

The thought makes her feel pleasantly silly, and she can’t help but smile to herself as she turns back toward her computer to finish her work.


End file.
